


Wait For Me (to come home)

by badjujuboo (miztrezboo)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Feels, Blow Jobs, Canon Related, Comeplay, Dry Humping, Facials, Friends With Benefits, Future Fic, Hand Jobs, M/M, Pining, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 19:38:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2882603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miztrezboo/pseuds/badjujuboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"i’m always soft for you, that’s the problem. you could come knocking on my door five years from now and i would open my arms wider and say, ‘come here, it’s been too long, it felt like home with you.’"</p><p>Or: a future fic of time stamps where Louis finally comes to grips with a love he'd denied for too long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wait For Me (to come home)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flimsy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flimsy/gifts).



> hahah writing canon h/l fic for flimsi. sure. okay. sounds like a thing i could do.... *stalks her tumblr* *rereads all her things* *flails about like a flailing flailer* So Nika i sort of smushed a few of your prompts and a lot of your "things i love in fic" and hopefully it's something you like, or can find bits of to like. ANYHOO: playlist for this included "18" from the lads, "Photograph" from Ed and "Wants What it Wants (Hushed)" from Andrew Belle because I write to music and these gave all the feels. 
> 
> big love to Nan for setting up this holiday exchange and to Sarah for the brit pick, Hez, Pnarah and my sweet potato for looking this over and making me not think it sucked. too much. xx

**+1 (2021)**

Louis fiddles with the lock, laughing at Liam telling him some sort of story on the phone. Louis can't quite tell because Liam is absolutely wankered and Louis' smile falls slightly, as he opens the door. 

"I'll call you back, mate." Louis says, leaning back against the door jamb. "Harry's here and he looks like he could do with some cheering up."

Harry blinks at him with those big green eyes as Louis nods toward the inside. Harry moves past him easily as Liam prattles on about saying hello to Harry for him and that he'll call again tomorrow. Maybe they should all do brunch or something. Louis ends the call with a promise to let him know later.

Harry's nowhere to be seen when he gets the door closed. Not all that unusual because Harry's been here before. Not a lot. Not with how he's been living in the States for years now. Louis thinks he can count on two hands how often Harry's been in this house. Even less, here with Louis and no one else at all.

"Harold?" He calls out, because his house is ridiculously huge now that it's just one. Felt big when it was two of them too, but. . . that was a while ago. 

"In here."

Louis shakes his head and follows where he thinks he heard Harry's voice coming from. He's in the living room, at the little bar Louis has setup in the corner. His back's to Louis as he walks in and for a moment Louis wonders if he's stepped into some sort of time portal. It feels very much like so many years before. Same skinny black jeans encasing Harry's long legs leading up to one of those plaid button downs he would nick from Liam. His stupidly long hair's tied up into a messy bun. With the low lamp lights Louis had on before, and an old match on the telly on mute, Louis can still make out the wispy curls at the nape of Harry's neck. It twists something dark and hot in the pit of his belly but he ignores it. He's not acknowledging those feelings. Hasn't done for years. Won't start again now.

"Made you a drink," Harry says finally, turning and holding out a glass that looks like coke but Louis is sure that at least three quarters of it is the scotch he keeps at the back of the cupboard. It's Harry's favourite kind. 

Louis steps forward and takes it from Harry's hand, fingertips brushing. Harry's cheeks pink and he rubs that hand along his thigh. Probably from the condensation the ice has made on the edge of the glass. Nothing else. 

"Thanks," Louis murmurs and they stand there looking at each other for a while. Louis takes in the extra wrinkles that he doesn't remember at the crease of Harry's eyes. The peach fuzz of a day gone without shaving on Harry's cheeks and the dark pink bow of his lips as he breathes in and out. He's still so fucking gorgeous. Still makes Louis' heart beat twice as fast.

"Wait!" Harry says, as Louis brings the glass to his mouth. "We have to toast first."

Louis quirks a brow but lowers his glass. "To what?"

Harry tilts his head to the side, as if it's something that should be obvious. Something Louis should know.

"It's been a year, Lou." 

He knows it must show on his face that he doesn't exactly know what "year" Harry's talking about. Until it hits him and he near staggers under the weight of it. It's probably why Liam was drunk. Why Niall had fucked off to Spain earlier in the week and why Zayn hadn't answered his call earlier when Louis was bored and looking for something to do. 

"Did you forget?" Harry asks, amusement in his tone that echoes in the lift of his lips, dimple deepening in one cheek. 

Louis feels his cheeks heat. "I knew it was coming up but, I thought it was next month?"

Harry shakes his head, a laugh echoing in the quiet room. "That's the last concert. This was when we signed all the papers making it official. You really didn't know?"

Louis shrugs. "Been a bit busy, mate. Couldn't tell you what day it was if it weren't for Mum ringing daily to remind me about Ernie's first football match on the weekend."

"Is he that big already? What position's he playing in?" Harry asks, genuine interest reflected in his gaze as he starts heading toward the sofa and Louis joins him. 

He'll talk for hours about his little brother. Harry knows that and Louis knows that Harry still calls his mum to ask about the youngest twins. Still gets pictures sent to his phone and still hears bits and pieces from Lottie when she runs into Gemma, both in similar industries and not living that far apart in London for the past few years. It's easy, too, for Louis to talk about his family and what they're doing. What mischief Daisy and Phoebe are up to now they're in their late teens. It's easier than talking about anything that matters. All the things they _won't_ talk about take up the spaces in-between.

It's the moments when they both go quiet. When a look is shared and a breath is held that Louis thinks about it. Let's the words he wants to say, has wanted to say for so long, sit idle on his tongue. Then Harry breathes out and asks him about starting up as a judge on X Factor next season and they move on. Another silence and Louis brings up Niall's latest selfies from Majorca. They laugh for a bit and then they're sipping their drinks again and _christ_. They were better at this once. Could talk about anything or sit in silence and not have it feel as _big_ a distance as it does right now.

Louis licks the last of the drink from his lips, feels Harry's eyes on him as he does. It sparks something hot across his skin, chases up his spine. It's a little hard to ignore. Louis' fingertips placate the fringy bits of his hair back under the beanie he's been wearing for the past week not bothering with even brushing his hair. A nervous tic he's never been rid of. He can't think of Harry like that. Can't think of anything like that with Harry at all. 

He gets up instead, taking Harry's glass from where it's sat near empty on the coffee table and heads to the bar. "I'll pour us another,"

Harry doesn't say anything and Louis wills his hands to stop shaking as he struggles to pour scotch into their glasses without it going everywhere. He takes a breath, puts the bottle down and squeezes his hands into fists a few times before the tremors settle. They've been alone together since the band ended. Before that even. 

Tonight shouldn't feel as different as it does.

Maybe it's because Harry just turned up here, unannounced. Maybe it's because Harry wants to drink and they haven't done that alone together in quite a while. Maybe it's because Louis was hoping it would be a bit longer before he had to face Harry on his own.

He tops their drinks off with coke from the little bar fridge and sits back on the sofa, after handing Harry his glass. It's awkward and still between them. The light from the telly playing in green, blue and white hues as the recap of matches played earlier in the week goes on. Louis stares at the screen, sips at his drink and tries to ignore how he can see Harry tapping his foot on the ground. Finally, Louis can't handle the quiet anymore, and takes the telly off mute.

Nobody says a word until the third break and then it's just Harry asking if he wants a refill.

Louis nods and Harry returns quick, the smell of scotch a lot stronger this time. When he takes a sip, he near chokes from the fumes. He raises both brows at Harry as he coughs, Harry simply snickers and sips slowly at his own. 

It does something, though. 

Maybe it's the sheer amount of alcohol they're consuming or the fact that Louis near choked or that they've sat there long enough. Whatever it is, it makes conversation between them start up again and they're laughing and slowly sliding closer to each other from one end of the sofa to meet in the sinky part in the middle. Harry's slapped at Louis' knee earlier, his hand a heated brand over Louis' joggers that Louis has yet to shake off. Louis started toying with the soft kiss curls at the nape of Harry's neck a while back, it didn't take too long before Harry was reaching up to tug on the elastic, freeing his hair from its hold. Louis' been toying with the ends of some of Harry's curls ever since. His arm resting along the back of the sofa, Harry pressing softly into his touch, as if playing with Harry's hair is something that's okay to do. As if that bubble of untouchable space that they'd created between them so long ago has all but disappeared now. 

So it's fine when Harry's hand starts sliding slow up and down Louis' thigh. It's fine, when Harry leans in a bit closer, presses his head to the side so Louis can get a better grip on his hair, loosen the tangle of curls there a bit more. 

Louis must close his eyes too much on one chuckle, leaning forward to put his empty glass down on the coffee table, because when he rightens, Harry is _right there_. His lips are so, so pink, like well chewed bubble gum, cheeks flushed red as he smiles at Louis, a real smile. A proper one that Louis thought of as just for him once upon a time. It makes Louis' breath catch in his throat and he can feel Harry's scotch sweet breath play over his chin as Harry leans in or maybe Louis does.

Fuck. Louis could kiss him. He wants to kiss him. Always wants to. Usually he can keep a clear head about it but Harry is so close and when he licks slow over his bottom lip well. 

Louis isn't going to say it was him that leant in first, because he's fairly certain Harry met him at least halfway.

It's not even a proper kiss, really. Just this brush of their mouths together, Louis' own dry lips near sticking to the recently wet of Harry's own. They don't pull back once it's happened. Louis continues staring into Harry's eyes and Harry's own dart about, as if he's looking for the moment that will give Louis away. The second that something on Louis' face will change and he'll pull back like he did all those times before. He's never wanted to. Only ever did it to save himself. Save them both. 

He doesn't want to save anyone now.

He leans in again and Harry groans as their lips meet. Louis adds more pressure this time and Harry's hand shifts on Louis' thigh, sliding further between them and fuck, Louis' getting hard fast. He wants Harry to touch him, wants his hand to shift up and under his joggers or just on top. Up a little and to the side where his cock is plumping up as their kisses slowly deepen. Harry's licking at the seam of Louis' lips so Louis tugs at Harry's hair a little more, gets them lined up a little better so he can taste the dark sugar of the last of the coke of their drinks from Harry's tongue. He scrunches his hand in Harry's hair, pulls tight against the roots and near smirks as Harry groans into his mouth. He's always liked his hair played with, right from the start when they were two lonely, bored and horny boys sleeping in bunk beds like they were still in primary school. Nothing like the sixteen and eighteen year old lads they were, experiencing life out of home for the first time. A surreal life at that. 

Harry's hand shifts higher and Louis' hips punch up in tiny pulses, anything to get Harry to move but not wanting to be too obvious about how _much_ he wants this. He wants Harry's hand and he wants Harry's kisses and he wants. . . he just _wants_ and he can blame it on the drinks later. Blame it on it being a year since they killed the band or blame it on sentimentality and all that having Harry here, actually _present_ in his house, in this close proximity is doing to him.

Not now though. Now he lets Harry ease him back, sliding down the sofa until he's mostly lying down with Harry hovering above him. Louis lets out a shaky laugh as Harry reaches up, fixes Louis' beanie where it's fallen over his eyes, it falls down again though and with a gruff growl he just tugs the thing off, throwing it behind him. Louis thinks it probably hit the lamp on the side table with the tell tale crash that echoed after. He pays it no mind, it wasn't more than fifty quid when he bought it online at Ikea. It means nothing in the grand scheme of things, especially if that scheme is Harry nipping his way down Louis' neck only to kiss him deeply once more. 

Louis' can feel Harry's dick hard and tucked away in his tight, tight jeans against Louis' hip as Harry somehow tangles their bodies together, his fingertips teasing at the head of Louis' cock, right above where a wet patch is slowly forming through the thin barrier of material that his ratty old joggers provide. He wants Harry's hand under them. Wants the calloused skin of Harry's fingertips from playing his stupid acoustic guitar on his own cock proper. He could ask, he'd only have to ask once and Harry would do it. Harry always took direction so well, especially when it was Louis' asking. 

He can't. He can't find his voice while Harry's tongue is searching in his mouth. He can't speak a word, only utter these ridiculous sighs and moans as Harry's hand moulds against the shape of his cock, this almost but not quite enough touch that has Louis rocking up into every stroke. He hasn't got off with anyone in ages, some friend of a friend of Stan's at a party a month ago, but nothing like this. Nothing like the way Harry's touching him as if he's learning all he can to make it better with every stroke. Louis can't stop looking into Harry's eyes. They're so open and honest and wide and he's never kissed anyone this long with them looking at him. Looking near through him, it feels like. He never had anyone kiss him good and proper and stare at him as if one blink will make Harry miss something. Louis doesn't want to miss anything, either. 

He wants to commit the little line in Harry's brow to memory as Louis shifts his knee to the side just right so Harry's cock has something a bit better to slide against as he grinds down hard. He eats up every moan from Harry's lips, swallows them down as Harry's hand finally, _finally_ slips under his joggers and touches his skin proper. His hand wraps stupid large around Louis' cock, stroking fast and then working the head like Louis' always liked, showed Harry the first time they did something like this. Louis doesn't know if it hurts in a good or bad way that Harry's obviously never forgotten. He's so close, he's so stupidly close to coming and all from a bloody handjob like he's fourteen and Hannah's tugging him off fast before her older brother gets home and finds them in her room with the door closed. 

Harry's bottom lip trembles as he works the wet slit of Louis' cock head with his thumb. His fingers are tugging Louis' foreskin down, even though it's stretched so tight, and it pinches a bit but in the best of ways. God, this almost electric feel surges through his veins, making his toes flex with every shift of Harry's hand. Louis tilts his hips up, hooks his heel over Harry's calf giving Harry more of his thigh to work against. He must be so hard that it hurts inside those stupid black skinnies but Louis' too far gone to suggest getting him out of them. And if he does, it means that they're really doing this, and Louis can't pretend that it's just mates helping each other out. Just like he did every time they'd get off like this in the X Factor house and after, when they had a flat of their own. If he didn't have the weight of Harry above him, covering him nearly, he could probably imagine they were back there. Grown up Harry is bigger everywhere, it seems. 

His hand near encompasses the length of Louis' cock and it feels so good, so right as Harry tugs him off. Louis kisses him deep again, tongue sliding perfect against Harry's own and there's nothing but the taste of Harry there anymore. He clutches the back of Harry's head tight as Harry digs his toes into the sofa cushion, pushing into Louis touch, thrusting against each other in tandem. Harry's muttering these half formed curses and tiny slips of Louis' name in amongst all these harsh breaths and choked back moans. Louis' just as bad, can't get a word out but that's more because he doesn't _want_ to. If he says anything, it'll be the wrong thing and it'll screw whatever this is up and he can't. Not when he's so close to coming and so close to Harry. It's so fucking hot and Harry's eyes are so big and bright. The green near hidden by how blown out they are. Looking more and more so, as Harry blinks, long dark lashes sweeping down providing Louis microseconds of reprieve from Harry's steady gaze. 

Louis still loves him. Loves him so much that the words are sitting there, right on the tip of his tongue. He pushes up and kisses Harry instead, kisses him hard as this heat tugging at the base of his spine intensifies. Harry twists his hand just right on the upstroke and Louis' back is arching up, lifting straight off the sofa as he comes with these soft sounds at the back of his throat, straight into Harry's mouth. Harry's lips scatter soft presses down Louis' chin and neck where he lets his head tip back on one of the cushions, giving Harry room to explore. 

He's shaking on the comedown, relaxing his near death grip on the edge of the sofa - anything so he won't fall off - sliding his hand down Harry's back. His fingertips flutter over the soft worn button down, he can still feel every shift of Harry's muscles as he goes. Harry's so bloody fit it's ridiculous. Louis goes to the gym twice a week, and occasionally works out with the lads at Rovers, but he's never managed to rid himself of that extra swell at his belly. Harry used to spend hours covering it in kisses. Would finish himself off there when they were young, licking it up like a bloody cat afterwards and have Louis hard again by the time he was finished, ready for round two.

He can't be thinking like this. That part of his life was closed up so long before and this. . . this isn't like that at all. It can't be. He closes his eyes and fits his hand over the swell of Harry's bum, pulling him in, whining as Harry's teeth nip at his collarbone. Harry's hips stutter forward three times as he sucks in this breath, coming in his jeans from the warmth of it that Louis can feel on his thigh. Harry's head drops to Louis' chest, as Louis strokes his fingers soft through the mess of curls he still has his hand tangled in. Harry's bloody heavy but Louis can't move, still wrung out from Harry's handjob. There's jizz getting cold against his skin and possibly some from where Harry pulled his hand out, sliding it over Louis' tummy when Louis was too preoccupied with getting Harry to come to worry about it. It's a little disgusting but Harry's so warm above him that he can forget about it for now.

He should say something. Knows he should say something as their breathing slowly evens out and Harry grabs at Louis' hand that slipped off Harry's bum earlier. He tangles their fingers together and it's that there, that tiny moment that has tears pricking at Louis eyes and he shuts them tight. Chokes back words like "don't go, don't go so far away again," and "I want you here, I need you to stay." He says nothing and Harry doesn't either and it's not awkward but it's not perfect between them, either.

Louis needs to move, he needs to get up and clean up, offer Harry some pants and maybe some joggers that won't fit but will be better than nothing. He needs to do all these things, but Harry's hand is tight in his own and maybe. . . maybe Louis can just lie here for a while longer.

He dozes and pretends he's more asleep than he is when Harry gets up, presses his lips to Louis' brow. It must be morning, because Louis can hear a puppy yapping outside and the sounds of next doors youngest little lad's squeals of delight. He tries to keep his breathing steady as Harry's fingertips shakily brush Louis' fringe off his forehead and he doesn't move a muscle as he hears Harry's footsteps echo farther away with each footfall. The door goes after a moment and then an engine starts and finally that's gone too. 

He gives himself five minutes to get over it. To feel _everything_ before shutting it back off. Putting all of Harry and what he means in a box to forget about. Right along with everything that happened between them before.

They're friends. Or that's what they are for appearance sake. They can't _be_ anything more.

When Harry calls a week later, Louis answers even though he really wants to send it to voicemail.

Harry apologises for not saying a proper goodbye, thought Louis looked like he needed the sleep. Louis teases back that he would have been better off in his bed, awful crick in his neck he had when he got up later. It’s the closest they get to talking about what really happened that night at all. 

They banter and they laugh about Niall's bum being all over twitter when he was drunk a few days before. Louis tells him about Ernest's game and how he managed to kick the one and only goal. Harry worries about Gemma's boyfriend and how serious its becoming and he thinks it's mostly on Gemma's side of things.

It's normal. Absolutely normal friend to friend conversation and it eases something in Louis' heart, knowing that they can get past whatever it was. That _he_ can still put loving Harry to the back of his mind and have Harry as his friend and nothing more. Not the more he wants. Not the more he can't afford.

 

**+2 (2023)**

He's at Thomas's first birthday party when Harry calls. He has to duck out from the cake cutting to answer his phone, Harry's face popping up on his screen making him smile even harder than he was before. Daisy tuts at him as he wanders out of the room but he pokes his tongue out at her as Thomas falls face first into his cake while trying to grab at the marzipan shaped balloons sticking out of the second layer. He loves his nephew a lot but it's not as if he's going to remember Louis stepping out for a moment now that he's turned one. 

There's a bit of a chill in the air as he shuts the door to the noise beyond. What was supposed to be a quiet family dinner and cake after turned into something else entirely once Lottie announced she was coming back from New York at the same time and Felicity brought home the bloke she'd been seeing for the last six months and his two girls from a previous marriage. 

The house is chock full of people - mostly couples - and it makes Louis feel a little left out. It isn't that he wants kids right now, he enjoys his life like it is, really. It's just. . . he thought he'd have something like this of his own by now. The fact that he doesn't even have anyone to share his life with becomes painfully obvious when he's in situations like this. Where near everyone in his family is paired off or has seemingly grown into adults while Louis hasn't paid enough attention. Christ, Daisy'd been seventeen when she'd found out she was pregnant to some bloke she'd had a one night stand with and she'd taken on single parenthood with gusto. Never caring that there wasn't anyone to share night time feeds with or commiserate over lack of sleep with either. The happy couples around the table tonight do make him feel lonely though. 

It's probably why he doesn't let Harry's call go to voicemail this time, unlike the countless others he has done with since Harry left his house near a year ago.

"Hey," Harry starts when Louis answers and Louis grins, sitting down on one of the chairs that's not quite pushed into the outdoor setting his mum's just bought on the patio. 

Louis swings his feet up to rest on the seat opposite. "Hiya,"

"Am I interrupting? I know you've got Tom's party today. Tonight?" Louis wonders if he mentioned it. . . he probably did. Or maybe Lottie told Gemma or Lou, they're all still in touch. Lou and Gemma more so in their line of work.

Louis nods, switching his phone from one ear to the other. "Yeah, just finishing off actually. He's probably covered head to toe in buttercream right about now, was swan diving into the cake as I walked out the door,"

Harry laughs and it's soft and endearing. Louis _doesn't_ warm up on the inside from hearing it, imagining the crinkle eyes Harry would have right now on the other side of the phone. 

"Best way to celebrate your first birthday, I would think. A faceful of icing and no one to scold you about it because it's your special day,"

"I'm not sure you'll have Daisy agreeing on that. Took her most of yesterday to bake the thing, not to mention the decorations on top." Louis taps at the side of the table with his shoe. Fiddles in his jacket pocket for his cigarettes. "Wouldn't let any of us buy him one, to save her the trouble."

"Aww bless, she's really loving this mum thing, isn't she?"

Louis smiles soft as he lights up a cigarette, breathing out the first long stream of smoke high into the night sky. "Yeah. Quite good at it, too. Mum says she would have given her a run for her money if she was around the same time that mum just had me. Never seen someone take so well to motherhood."

Louis takes another deep drag of his cigarette, looking about for somewhere to tap the ash. His mum hates him still smoking - especially after he "gave up" six months ago - it's why she doesn't have an ashtray in the garden. 

"I dunno about that, you mum did a pretty good job with you. Look how you turned out,"

Louis snorts, tapping the ash off with a flick of his finger. "Thirtyish and living alone in a house built for more than just me and the cat from next door who keeps popping over for second breakfast."

"Lou," Harry says, and Louis can hear concern in his tone. It just adds to the ache set in his chest from being around his family and all their paired off happiness, rather than alleviate it.

He blinks a bit, his eyes stinging a little. This is why he's mostly avoided Harry's calls. It's too hard to listen to Harry's voice. To know how different it could be if Harry was in the same place wanting the same thing that Louis' always denied himself. Harry has a life in LA, filled with his friends and people that make him happier than Louis ever did.

"Don't mind me, it's late and I've had a couple. It's been a big week."

Harry sighs and Louis knows that this isn't over. Harry isn't one to let people feel sorry for themselves. Louis really can't listen to Harry list all the great things Louis' done, all the moments that Louis should be happy with, proud of. Not when losing Harry before he really had him and never actually admitting how he felt - _feels still_ \- proper outweighs them all.

"Daisy's calling, I better head in. Great to hear from you, H. Talk soon," he signs off fast, a barely audible murmur from Harry on the other end as he shifts the phone from his ear to end the call.

He leaves not long after. Can't bear the happy couples and their fond looks and the sad ones from his mum every single time his nephews crawl onto his lap or he bounces little Tom on his knee. She'd always hoped he'd be the first to give her grandchildren. Now it looks like he won't be giving her any at all.

When he turns into his drive, the house is lit up, which is odd because he normally leaves the front light on, but not the whole house. It makes him hesitate as he rolls the car to a stop. He gets his phone out and types out a text to Alberto - though he hasn't needed him since the band ended - and he doesn't know if he's even in town. Old habits die hard. He gets to the front door and it's open, which is worse because he _knows_ he locked it. Locked it and the front gate which means someone's probably scaled the fence and _fuck_ , maybe he should actually forgo the text and just call the police instead. 

He grabs at an umbrella from the stand inside the door and walks softly as he can down to where he can hear the stereo is on. It's Harry's recent playlist that he's had on repeat for days now. It's an old song of Ed's, but for some reason it's resonating now and he hasn't been able to play anything else. 

He's at the junction just before the room opens up to the living and kitchen areas when he picks up something else. Something deeper, a little gravelly because he's still getting over that cold he told Louis about a week before. A week before when he was calling from New York from some hotel that he was visiting Alexia at. 

"How on earth did you get into my house, Harold?" Louis calls out, louder than he probably means to, but his heart is still racing from the thought of someone breaking in. 

The smile on his face though is purely because it ended up not being some crazy stalker type. Nothing to do with unexpected visitors who spin around from where they were stood at your bookcase, near dropping one of the tall statuettes of an award that Harry probably has a copy of in one of his homes. 

"Fuck, Louis! You scared the shit out of me!" Harry yelps, statuette pressed close to his chest and eyes wide. 

"Scared you?" Louis snipes, "I thought you were some crazy stalker scaling walls and smashing windows to rub one out on my piano or something!" 

"On your piano? Why on your piano?" 

"Because. . . I don't know! It's just _there_ in the corner, why not?"

They're both breathing heavy and Harry still has their BRIT from the third or fourth year they won and Louis' is pointing the black umbrella at Harry like it's a sword. It takes two seconds of nothing else said for them both to fall apart with laughter. Louis walking toward Harry, dropping the umbrella with a clatter to the ground as Harry rights the statuette back on the shelf. Louis gets a hand on Harry's arm as they both bend over with the weight of both the hilarity of their situation and relief at the same time. Harry snorts, dipping down so his head's on Louis' shoulder, face turned in so Louis can feel Harry's breath play across his neck. Louis only realises the intimacy of how close they are once their laughter dries up. Harry's hand is a warm weight on his hip, thumb tucked just under Louis' shirt and brushing soft against his skin.

It takes everything not to just break apart quick. They're friends though. Friends that touch now after years of not doing so, trying so hard _not_ to, so it feels. . . strange. He leans back a bit, something like self preservation is hard to kick after near a decade of doing so. Harry stands taller, his hand still settled on Louis' waist and he looks at Louis with his eyes so honest, dark circles underneath. A purple blemish on his otherwise sunkissed skin. 

It feels as if no time has passed between the last time Harry was here in Louis' house and now. As if he's been here always, belongs here. Harry smiles down at him, pressing his forehead against Louis' own. 

"Hi," he says. It's one word and Louis' can feel that tell tale flutter in the pit of his stomach, spreading out through his veins like a wildfire of nerves and lust and a happiness that he denies is still there between them all too often.

"Hey," Louis whispers in return, finds his voice shaking as he slides his hand up and down Harry's arm. Thinks about the ink that lies under the blue knitted jumper Harry's got on. The heart he'll forever wear on his sleeve. The words covered up a long time ago about what Harry believed he could and couldn't have. 

"Sorry if I frightened you, I wanted it to be a surprise," Harry's brow lifts a little and Louis knows that means Harry's worried, there's even that tell tale little tremble of his bottom lip and _fuck_. Louis shouldn't know this stuff. Not after all this time. Not if it isn't supposed to mean anything.

He reaches up and twists Harry's nipple quick, uses the distraction to skip back out of Harry's arms and put plenty of space between them. He takes a deep breath before smirking at Harry. "Bloody shit surprise mate, walk in and you're singing along to one of our songs."

Harry is pouting, rubbing at his chest but he freezes as Louis mentions the song. He freezes and Louis babbles on because he knows he's mentioned something they've never talked about at all. Ed's songs and the ones he may or may not have written with them in mind. Lyrics that hinted at what Harry felt and what Harry whined about whenever he was at Ed's drunk. Stories that Ed would eventually ask Louis about and would sigh whenever Louis would stiffen up and move conversation along. 

"I mean, it could have been worse I suppose. Ed has a bloody catalogue of love songs and songs about heartbreak and that time he did that near rap album that was god awful but he's done alright, hasn't he? Did you get the invite to his daughters christening next month? I think I'll be in Sydney for X Factor stuff, maybe if I-"

"Louis."

Louis brushes his fringe out of his eyes and picks up the umbrella still rambling on. "-take a later flight I can still be in Australia in time. There's that time difference where they're in the future or the past I can never remember. It's bloody hot in here innit?" He tugs his jacket off and throws it on an armchair, untucking his shirt as he goes. "Did I tell you about-"

"Lou."

He sits the umbrella against the potted plant that his mum bought for him last time she was down. "-this plant my mum bought me? Have to pay Ranjani an extra ten quid a week to feed it, says it's not part of her job description as cleaner to -" He stops short as Harry grabs at his arms, fingertips circling tight around his wrists.

He stares at where Harry's holding him still rather than anywhere else. He knows his cheeks will be red and it feels like his chest is too tight to get a breath in right now.

"Louis. Stop." Harry says softly, loosening his grip on Louis' wrists as if he's realised himself how tight he was holding on. "I'm. . . I came to see you. If it's too much or you don't-"

"Not too much, no. Just, a surprise. Like you said," Louis stumbles and stutters and he sounds ridiculous but Harry's caught him off guard. Harry's here when he shouldn't be and he's holding Louis like it _means_ something. "You didn’t say you were close when we were on the phone."

Harry chuckles, turning his hands a bit so they're under Louis'. It's not really like they're holding hands, more hovering with the possibility but Louis feels a charge of energy from it all the same. "You didn't give me a chance to. Hung up on me right as I was saying I wasn't far from your home."

Louis wonders how red his cheeks can possibly go in one conversation. They're near on fire now. "Well, I did have Daisy yelling at me so," he shrugs and tries not to flinch as the tip of Harry's middle finger sweeps light over sensitive skin at his wrist right over the curve of rope to it's frayed edge. The quotation marks are near faded there now, just a memory of all the things he wanted to say but couldn't captured in the space between inked lines. 

Seems they both said a lot of things they felt they couldn't out loud within the hum of a tattoo artists gun.

"How long are you back for?" Louis asks, keeping still as Harry turns his hand over, follows the rope along it's knotted path with one finger. Louis is so tempted to just join their other hand together, give him something to hold on to while Harry does. . . whatever it is he's doing. 

"A week. Maybe a month or more. The label here wanted to talk about a few things and it's nearly Christmas so I thought I'd just come back for a while."

Harry hasn't had a holiday back in the UK since before the band finished. Louis wonders what that means and if there's something else going on rather than Gemma and her engagement to that twat Harry doesn't really like. Even Harry's mum hasn't been able to get him home for Christmas in the past so it has Louis wondering what's _really_ going on.

"Staying at your house then?" Louis licks over his lips as Harry flips his hand again, concentrating on touching that space between the rope ends. The faint quotation marks that are faded but Louis can almost feel as Harry's fingertip presses where they stood out years before.

Harry shakes his head, long waves shaking as he does so. "It's occupied. So's the flat in Kensington."

"Sofa surfing again for you, is it?" Louis says with an attempt at a laugh, but fails more than anything. 

Harry looks up and how Louis ever thinks he's remembered the true colour of Harry's eyes is ridiculous really. They're so green but there's gold speckled through and tiny lines of brown and he's looking at Louis so seriously, so intensely Louis can't look away for a moment. 

"I do happen to know you have a comfortable one," Harry says offhand. "Unless of course it's changed since I last slept over?"

Louis shakes his head, flashes of what happened that night a year ago flickering through his mind. 

"No, same sofa." Louis licks at his lips, his mouth feeling suddenly very dry. Harry's just so close is the thing and he's rubbing at Louis' skin with his thumb now and it's a lot. It's a lot.

"No one else slept on it then, no one else going to maybe want to sleep on it?" Harry asks with the slightest tilt to his head as he steps closer. He's sounding Louis out and Louis doesn't know what to think about that. He's not been a saint since that night - it has been a year - but he's not brought anyone home, either. There just wasn't the need for it when he was hooking up at a friends party or a couple of times with a lad he'd seen on and off for the past few years now. Nothing was ever that serious and Louis was particular about who he brought back here. Who he let into his home.

"No one that matters. No one now," Louis shuffles forward a little and tilts his head up just as Harry says "okay," and kisses him hard. 

His hands instantly leave Harry's grip as he slides them around to the small of Harry's back, tugging him in. 

"I have," Louis says, Harry's mouth leaving his for a moment to trail wet kisses down Louis' throat. "I have something better than a sofa this time," 

Harry chuckles and it tickles against Louis' skin. "You do?"

"Yes," Louis moans, Harry's hands sliding down around Louis' bum, pulling him close. "New thing, less pillows and will fit us both,"

Harry kisses him again, tongue sliding velvet soft against Louis' own. "The sofa did that just fine last time, as I recall," he teases, nipping at Louis' jaw.

"Better, better than that," Louis stutters, and curses as Harry rocks hard against him, cock noticeably hard in his jeans and a delicious rub against Louis' own. "Oh fucking hell, Harry! Just take me to bed!"

Harry lifts him up off the ground and Louis squeaks in response, wrapping his legs around Harry's waist and leaving nail marks in Harry's shoulders with how hard he grips to hold on.

"Is that what it's called?" Harry asks, smile blinding and happiness evident in the dimples deep in his cheeks and the sparkle almost visible amongst the green of his eyes, crinkled up at the corners.

Louis thumps at Harry's back in answer, before returning to kissing him deep once more. They both laugh as Harry walks into the corner of the coffee table. Gasp each others names over ragged breaths when Harry can't stop himself and presses Louis up against the spare bedroom door, hips shifting hard against Louis' own. Louis' aching for Harry's touch proper by the time Harry lets him go, bouncing back on his mattress and stripping his clothing as he goes, eyes focused on where Harry's stood at the foot of the bed doing the same.

It's the first time they've been proper naked together in a long time. Louis lets his eyes sweep over Harry's naked form, still so tall and gangly, thin but muscular, toned from all that yoga he still does. Then there's his tattoos. These moments mapped in black lines that Louis' can't know the complete meaning of. Bits of Harry's life that Louis' isn't a part of, because he chose not to be. Thing's he may never understand, it's Harry's story to tell.

He can't think on how it's his own fault that it's this way for long, not with Harry's lips at his knee, hands pushing his legs apart as he nips at the tender skin of Louis' inner thighs. Higher still, as he winks up at Louis before taking the head of Louis' cock in his mouth and swallowing him down with a finesse that Louis isn't sure he remembers Harry ever having before. Then again, that was a decade ago. Louis gets a fist full of Harry's curls, tugs like he remembers Harry liking and grins at the accompanying moan vibrating down his shaft. He's close to coming all too soon because it's been a while and it's _Harry_.

He flicks the lamp on with a shaking hand as Harry takes him deep, tongue pressed to the vein at the underside of Louis cock. His throat flutters around the head and Louis has to shut his eyes, smack a fist into the mattress to stop himself from nutting off then and there. When he opens them again, it's to Harry's head bowed low over Louis' waist, bobbing up and down enthusiastically. Louis groans as Harry focuses on the head, tongues at his slit as his hand twists perfect around what his mouth doesn't cover. Louis' finding it harder and harder to stay still as Harry works him over. His free hand is on Louis' thigh, thumb alternating between rubbing soft circles over Louis' skin or pressing down, hard enough that Louis' knows there'll be a bruise there by morning.

"Oh god, Harry. Harry I'm so close," he whimpers, as Harry takes him down deep again, throat fluttering over the head as Harry swallows. Harry breathes out harsh through his nose and there's a shine at the corner of his eyes as Louis tries in vain to keep his hips still. Harry's not having any of it though, hands sliding under Louis thighs, cupping the cheeks of his arse and pulling up, goading Louis on. Louis hisses something incomprehensible as he does as Harry wants, fucking up into Harry's throat, watching the line of Harry's spine shift as he grinds down into the mattress, so obviously turned on that he can't help himself. Harry always got so much out of giving head. Louis hardly ever had to reciprocate in the beginning, Harry getting himself off before Louis had a chance half the time.

Louis tugs at Harry's hair when he feels that familiar tingling at the base of his spine. Tugs hard once again as Harry doesn't move, eyes closed and looking so, so into the way he's sucking at Louis', cheeks hollowed. Louis' whole body feels like it's on a knifes edge as Harry pulls off, lips red and puffy as his hand curls around Louis cock. Harry's eyes are completely blown out, dark as night as he pants, "On my face, yeah? Want to feel it when you come."

Louis groans as he does what Harry wants a few strokes later. Thick white streaks coat Harry's lips and cheek, a long strand hanging from Harry's chin. Fuck, Harry looks filthy and gorgeous and Louis wants to kiss him so much. He bats lazily at Harry's hand where he's still stroking Louis' spent and tender cock so it verges on pain rather than pleasure. 

"Come here," he calls. Harry blinks at him lazily, leans on side so he can swipe Louis' come from his chin up into his mouth, tongue swirling around his finger in a way that has Louis' cock kicking valiantly against his belly. Louis moans again, feels this aching in his chest that only having Harry closer will satisfy. He crooks his fingers in a come here gesture, unable to find words. 

Harry crawls up over Louis, fitting himself between Louis' thighs as his tongue stretches out, licking at the sticky mess off his lips. He's near shaking and Louis can feel how hard he is between them as Harry ruts up against the wet mess of precome and Harry's spit at the crease of Louis' thigh. It sends sparks down Louis' spine every time the sticky head of Harry's cock brushes up against his own, and fuck, he's getting hard again and that's ridiculous but he is.

Louis slips his hand from Harry's shoulder and down over the sweat sticky planes of his back, pushing at Harry a little to fit his hand between them. The intense stare Harry had fixed him with before disappears behind a flutter of his lashes as Louis curls his hand around Harry's cock, barely fitting around it. He'd forgotten how big Harry felt in his hand. How his jaw would _ache_ from sucking on the head alone. How he'd feel Harry for days after the few times they'd gone further. Fucking sounding too harsh for what they did with eyes open and hearts full. Making love too strong a classification for Louis to contemplate labelling when they'd hold each other after. Not then. Maybe now.

Harry's hips jerk erratically as Louis' wrist aches from the angle, trying to give Harry something to fuck up into. He presses his lips to Harry's brow where he's got his head down, watching the way Louis' hand shifts. Watching them move together. Louis' has to close his eyes as Harry croons his name, this soft croaky sound that blooms something old and pushed aside in his heart. Warming him throughout. He whispers Harry's name and Harry lifts his head, fits their mouths together and Louis tastes each of Harry's moans on his tongue as he comes with a shudder over Louis' fist. 

They kiss slow and tender as Harry lazily thrusts a few more times in the curve of Louis hand. Spreads his mess over Louis stomach when Louis just can't ignore the twinge in his forearm anymore and let's Harry's cock go. He presses his lips soft to the corner of Louis' twice before he shifts up and off, tugging at Louis' hand and leading them to the shower without a word. Harry's feet are unsteady as he turns the taps on, checking the temperature as he presses his cheek to Louis' shoulder. They're both tired, worn out, leaning against the tiles and each other. 

It feels ridiculously domestic as they sloppily clean each other off with just the warm spray of water, too lazy to even bother with soap. They towel off quick, exchanging kisses and soft touches as they go. Harry collapses onto the bed once Louis' pulled the now messy duvet off with a pinched look that has Harry giggling as he settles onto the mattress, pulling the sheet to the side for Louis. He finds himself tugged into Harry's side as he lies on the bed, switching the lamp off so there is only darkness and shared breaths between them.

"How'd you get in, by the way?" He finds himself asking Harry, ear pressed to Harry's chest and the steady beat of his heart. It's almost as if it's saying _"he's here, he's here, he's still here,"_ with every thump-a-thump. 

"You never did change where you keep the spare key, and the code's the same as it always was," Harry says with a well placed cough and Louis pauses from drawing soft shapes on Harry's stomach. 

"Right, okay." He answers, trying not to read into that too much.

They're quiet and Louis doesn't know if it's because they're both thinking about the significance of his code being his and Harry's birthdays or that the key is in that stupid fake rock that Harry bought even though they lived in a flat when they first moved out.

"Mine, mine's the same, too," Harry says, clearing his throat as his fingertips tighten on the bare skin of Louis' hip. "Security on the houses here and in LA. Same for my phone."

"Good to know if I ever want to break in there, Harold," Louis says softly, because he doesn't know what to _do_ with that. It means something to Louis and it obviously means something to Harry, too. But what?

Harry hums and they slowly relax back into the position they'd been in before. Harry with his lazy strokes of his hand up and over Louis' spine as Louis shifts his leg higher over Harry's thigh. He brushes his fingertips through the still sparse hair on Harry's chest. Content and warm.

They nod off eventually and Louis is roused with a whine as Harry shifts out from under him, whispering an excuse about needing the loo as Louis makes grabby hands at all the parts of Harry he can reach. He smiles a little as Harry promises to be right back, his lips grazing Louis' brow. 

Louis' falls back to sleep before he hears Harry even open the bathroom door, but wakes again later the little spoon to Harry's big. Harry's near crushing him he's holding Louis so close. The sun's peaking through the curtains a little more this time, a bit brighter and framing the window where he didn't shut them proper so it's definitely late in the day. The fact he hasn't eaten since Tom's birthday dinner is slightly worrying by the grumble his stomach gives. He doesn't want to give in and get up, though. Not with having Harry still here. Still in his bed and wrapped around him like some bloody sloth. 

It could all change if he gets up. They could talk about whatever this is or could be and Louis isn't sure he's ready for that. Isn't ready to talk about what they are or what the future holds. Not with Harry busy song writing and working with a bunch of other artists. Not with Louis' relocating to Australia for a few months for X Factor. Long distances just don't work. Not without a lot of work and he and Harry have never been good at that. Not the communicating what they wanted or needed properly. Why on earth would they be good at it now?

When he does make it out of bed, after dozing again, Harry's in the kitchen and he's making them breakfast that could easily masquerade as lunch considering how late in the day it's become. He serves their eggy bread up with a dimpled smile, framed by curls that are still mussed from sleep. They sit beside each other at the bench and conversation is easy between them. 

Harry presses his lips to Louis' bare shoulder when he collects their empty plates and Louis watches him wash the dishes, eyes focused on the shift of muscle in Harry's back. He's so bloody gorgeous and tanned and Louis wants to lick every inch of his skin. It makes his mouth water at the thought, and he's off the stool and fitting his hands to the curve of Harry's waist before he can think too much about it. It doesn't take much to turn Harry around. Louis kisses his way across Harry's chest, nipping at the smooth skin of his belly as he tugs his pants down quick. He doesn't think about if he's _allowed_ to take Harry's cock in his mouth. It's a thing they can do now that they're friends that touch, and kiss, and fuck. 

Louis doesn't think too much about anything of the sort as he blows Harry right there in his kitchen. He doesn't think all too much about what it means that he and Harry fuck in nearly every room of Louis' house over the next few weeks. Harry slipping out during the day to do whatever it is that's brought him back to home soil. Louis taking meetings and catching up with friends but always coming home to Harry. Always ending the night with Harry in his bed and Harry wrapped around him. Starting each day with Harry's lips on his skin and smiles he thought he'd never wake up to. Not like this.

So it's nothing different for him to open the door to soft music and enticing smells from his kitchen one evening, smiling as he calls out that he's home as he toes his shoes off. Harry's cooked for him a lot and Louis likes the way Harry's made the place his own. A new skillet, a few baking trays and a roasting pan that they've used every Sunday since Harry arrived and never really left. Louis takes his coat off and throws it over his armchair, listening to Harry talk about what he's made for dinner. It's then he notices the dining table set for two. There's candles and flowers and the rest of the lights are out apart from a few lamps. It's romantic, is what it is, and it's nothing like what they've done in the near month that Louis' had Harry in his home. 

It unsettles him a bit. Butterflies taking flight in the pit of his stomach at what Harry means with the whole setup and his cryptic "just felt like it" when Louis asks about him going all out. He showers and changes into his joggers and a shirt that's probably Harry's with how it hangs off one shoulder exposing his collarbone and the fading blush of a lovebite Harry sucked there over a week ago. He'd woken Louis up with his hand around his cock, mouthing at Louis' neck like he couldn't get enough. As if it was too many years ago to count, a time where they had to be quiet because the other lads were asleep and Liam was a notoriously early riser. 

Harry curls his foot around Louis' ankle as they eat, discussing parts of their day like they have done whenever they eat together. Here at the house rather than anywhere else. They're both busy people and Louis is fine that they haven't been out together. It's just not something they've done, both being busy with their regular lives outside of what they do within the walls of Louis' home. Louis' absolutely okay with that. It's just how they are now. A sort of progression from friends who stopped being nearly that before the band came undone, to friends that apparently now give each other blow jobs and sleep in each other's bed. Well, in Louis' one. 

Harry takes their plates away when they're done, shoving Louis off when he offers to do the dishes. Louis makes them both a cuppa instead, settling on the sofa with that new baking show that Harry's made him catch up on the past two series of, now three episodes into the third. Harry joins him not too long after and it's after they've both finished their drinks and Harry's got his head on Louis' lap, Louis running his fingers idly through that Harry drops his news. 

"I've really loved staying here," he says, eyelashes fluttering between one drawn out breath and the next how he does when he's tired. 

Louis feels that warmth curl in his belly, that warmth that he gets whenever Harry says something or does something that makes Louis feel like Harry belongs here. That this is more than just Louis' home. 

"I've liked having you," he says soft and warm, pressing the pads of his fingers a little firmer down on Harry's head, because Harry always moans a bit when he does so.

Harry's hand comes up and clasps at Louis' knee, thumb rubbing over the knob of bone there. "I have to fly back to LA tomorrow. Jeff needs me at the studio."

And like that, any warmth in Louis' body is gone, stolen by Harry's words. The only sign he gives on the outside to his reaction is for a momentary pause in stroking Harry's hair. He swallows at the lump that's formed in his throat, because they never said they were anything. This shouldn't be unexpected. Harry eventually had to go back. Had to go home.

"Okay," Louis says in answer, licking at his lips. "I can drive you-"

"I've lined up a car."

"Okay," Louis repeats, trying not to let how stupidly it hurts that Harry isn't even going to let him do that. It would have cost Louis nothing to take him to the airport. He wouldn't even have got out of the car. Still, when Harry turns a few minutes later and looks up at him proper, brow heavy and green eyes sad looking, Louis makes an effort to smile. No one has ever liked a sad looking Harry and it's not as if Harry owes him anything. It's not as if he expected Harry to stay forever.

Harry reaches up and slides his fingers slow over Louis jaw and Louis leans down, pressing his cheek into Harry's hand. His thumb brushes soft over Louis' cheek and Louis leans into it.

"Let's go to bed, yeah?" Harry asks and Louis nods, because he doesn't want to sit here anymore. He wants to be as close to Harry as possible, remember every second of what it's been like to have Harry before Harry goes. 

He lets Harry lead him to the bedroom that's felt more like theirs than just Louis' since Harry brought his luggage in the morning after he surprised Louis in his house. It looks different now, Harry's bags already packed and lined up at the foot of the bed. It feels _less_ than, without Harry's scarves thrown haphazard on the chair near the window. Looks a little too clean without Harry's boots lying in a messy pile outside of the closet door. 

It makes Louis' chest tighten up and his hands shake as he tugs at Harry's shirt, pulling it up and over his head as Harry pushes Louis' joggers and pants down. He feels like every breath counts, as Harry shoves him gently onto the bed. They're completely naked and Harry's kissed him deep and thorough and Louis' almost forgets this will be the last time they do this in a while. He concentrates on feeling everything instead, committing this time to memory over every other because it feels like the last.

Harry takes him apart with his tongue first, then his fingers and finally when Louis feels like he's going to explode with want, Harry flips them both over, letting Louis take control. Louis rides him slow, Harry's hands a heated touch to his skin, shifting restless over Louis thighs and hips. Louis understands, he can't stop touching Harry either. Tracing the lines of ink that mean so much to them both. The birds on his chest, the boat on his arm, the anchor at his wrist. 

Harry pulls Louis down at one point, kisses him deep, threads his fingers through Louis' hair and holds him near. All Louis can do is grind down, his cock full and leaking over Harry's stomach. Harry's so big, and Louis' taking him so deep he knows he's going to feel this for days afterward. Wants to feel it, keep the ache as a reminder that Harry was here and they were a lot , were _more_ without putting a label on it. It feels so different this time, feels like Harry's trying to say more with each touch, with each flick of his tongue. Louis can near read it in the way Harry won't look away when they kiss. Won't look away when Louis starts to come, just holds on to Louis hips as Louis shakes and shouts through it. 

Harry rolls them over again quick, hiking Louis' legs near up to his shoulders, bending Louis in half and fucking into him fast and hard. Louis's fingertips skim over Harry's broad shoulders, the dip and curve of his spine, pressing kisses to Harry's cheek and brow, the corner of his lips. Anywhere he can reach at all. 

He whispers, "Come on, love. Let go.” 

It's not the first time he's called Harry that, but it's the first when they're locked together like this. Maybe it's that or maybe it's the way Louis rises up to meet his next thrust, but Harry comes, dark lashes finally fluttering to a close.

They clean up and cuddle up and in no time Harry passes out. Louis' lies there, tucked into Harry's chest, comfortable and content, but unable to sleep for hours more. 

 

 **+3 (2024)**

Zayn and Perrie's wedding comes out of nowhere. 

They'd been engaged for so long now that Louis - and apparently even the general public - had given up on them getting hitched. They'd had two kids, three homes and a plethora of animals since Zayn popped the question in the garden. Them getting married proper "for the piece of paper and all" didn't seem to be too high on the list of things to do. 

It's probably why they all rush back home when Zayn and Perrie's invite comes in the mail. Niall flies in a week before. Liam cancel's his families planned holiday to Florida. Harry has a thing but his flight's due to land just in time to get there. Louis mostly talks to Zayn and keeps him from going mental with planning and such.

He also talks to Harry a lot more. They chat near once a week, make time to Skype and talk for hours as one or the other potters about their home. The distance between them feels smaller than ever before. Probably because they're both making an effort. Maybe because it feels like they're standing on a precipice of something more.

Still, they don't talk about _it._

They've not talked about it since Harry left with a brush of his lips on Louis' cheek one very early Tuesday morning to fly back to LA, to his sunny California home. They've talked about everything else. Louis' job. Harry's song writing. The possibility of an album that he _might_ make but it still feels too soon. They talk about Gemma's new boyfriend and how she's doing since her engagement went tits up. They talk about their families and they talk about Daisy moving back home with Louis’ mum. They talk about Niall and him meeting an Irish girl in Melbourne and how gone for her he is. They talk about mutual acquaintances and new bands they like and Harry sends him albums to listen to and mixes online under pseudonyms that only have any real meaning to Louis. To Louis and Harry and what they could have been, maybe were once upon a time. Could be again.

It's like a relationship without a label and Louis. . . he's happy with it. He is.

He just doesn't know how to bring it up with them being so far apart. How to ask Harry if the incredible sex they had the year before meant anything more than just that. Was Louis just there as a helping hand to scratch an itch Harry couldn't reach? Is all the talking they've done since then leading to something more? He isn't brave enough to ask over the phone or email. He isn't brave enough to fly out to LA and ask in person either. 

Then the wedding pops up with three weeks notice and when Harry says he can't wait to see Louis, to talk proper in person. Louis wonders if this is finally it. If this is when all cards will finally be shown and they can decide one way or another how they fall.

The wedding's beautiful. Danny and Ant stand for Zayn and Perrie has a friend from school and one of her cousins. Their little boys have special parts and tears flow from all around when the couple finally are announced as married and kiss with so much true passion it hurts to watch.

Harry holds his hand through the entire ceremony, squeezing it hard when Zayn and Perrie turn with tears in their eyes, ready to start their lives proper as Mr and Mrs Malik. 

Louis doesn't think about what it means. What it means to have Harry here beside him. He doesn't think about how Harry slipped in, running late as usual, politely asking people to shift so he could sit to Louis' left. He doesn't think about how right, how good it felt to have Harry reach over and slide their hands together, fingers fitting perfectly in between the spaces of each others. Harry rests his head on Louis' shoulder after letting out the loudest wolf whistle when Perrie and Zayn walk past. They sit like that as family and friends walk out. They sit until the place is near empty and it's just them and dust motes falling through the sunbeams above. 

Harry squeezes his hand and Louis turns enough that he can see Harry's bright green eyes looking up at him from a swathe of dark lashes. "Was good, yeah?" he asks in that soft, low voice that Louis loves. It's just a hair above how he sounds in the morning when he's just woken up.

Louis nods, ""s good seeing them finally sort their shit out,"

Harry snorts and stares at Louis like he's contemplating something. A little lift in his brow telling Louis all he needs to know. When he smiles, its a proper one, dimples cut deep in his cheeks as before he turns inward, pressing his lips to Louis' shoulder before standing up, their hands still joined between them. He opens his mouth like he's about to say something and Louis blinks double, a nervous tic. 

"Oi, you two! Zayn wants you out front for photos!" Niall's voice bellows and whatever it was Harry was going to say or do is gone, broken by bloody Zayn and Perrie needing snapshots to remember their day.

Harry lets out a breath, shaking his head and tugs at Louis' fingertips. "C'mon then."

Louis lets Harry drag him out to where everyone is standing about, the harried looking photographer trying to get them in some sort of order. He squeezes Louis' hand again before letting go and slipping his arm around Louis’ waist instead. He leans in close and Louis is glad he put his glasses on as they came out, it makes it easier for him to hide how he’s sure his eyes bug when Harry’s lips graze his ear before he speaks in something just shy of a whisper.

“You look great in that suit.”

Louis turns slightly into Harry’s side, shivers as Harry’s breath tickles the hairs at the nape of his neck as he does so. “Oh yes?”

Harry nods, the tip of his nose brushing Louis’ hairline, lips heated against Louis skin as he presses a kiss to Louis’ forehead. “Wouldn’t mind seeing you out of it of course.”

Louis barks out a laugh that sounds more like something Harry is known for. Shoving Harry away just as the flash goes off, the photographer reminding them to smile. 

Louis’ sure he’s doing that anyhow.

They end up taking Louis' car to the reception, sat at tables that are close enough that Louis can lean back in his chair and catch Harry’s eyes. Liam makes a speech once the official ones are done, Niall having to drag him away from the mic once he gets a bit weepy and emotional as they’ve all known him to be in situations like this. Poor Leemo, always a bit soppy when it comes to love.

They both dance, but not with each other and they don’t get close like they were before. Louis feels like he’s getting mixed signals, especially when he sees Harry talking with one of Zayn’s old friends that Louis _knows_ Harry’s hooked up with before. It might be years after the fact, but what does Louis _really_ know? They’ve talked a lot about a myriad of things but not about what they are to each other, if they’re anything. Harry might have held his hand when they were sat listening to Zayn and Perrie declare their love for each other but they haven’t touched since. 

The more Louis watches Harry work the room, flirt with girls and boys, young and old, the more Louis starts to think he’s screwed this up. That as much as he thought they were finally on the same page, that Louis might be able to be truthful with his feelings to have them returned in the same way, he’s utterly wrong. Harry hasn’t even _looked_ his way once in hours now so it he won’t notice if Louis slips out. He’s glad he stopped drinking earlier. A few champagnes during the speeches and a little scotch after but nothing for a good while now. He gets to his car without notice and berates himself the entire drive home. 

He was a fool to think that the month that he had with Harry the year before meant anything. That every phone call or text meant they were working toward something, even if neither of them had talked about it at all. Nothing was official and Louis was stupid for thinking that Harry was at any point where he’d want Louis again. Want Louis how Louis wanted him, always wanted him, right from the start.

He makes himself a drink when he gets in. Tugs at his tie but doesn’t remove it, unlike his shoes that he kicked off as soon as he opened the door. The sky is lightening as he steps out onto the deck. A chill settling over his skin as the first rays of dawn streak through the sky in dull lilac and apricot hues. His head aches and his feet hurt from his new shoes and his heart feels like it’s been through the wringer. And it has and it’s all Louis’ fault.

He should have kept himself closed off. Never have let Harry in that night a year after the band finished and Harry looked so bloody sad that Louis felt he owed it to him to be nice at least this once. He should have stuck to his guns and protected his heart and forgot about possibilities lost and chances left untaken.

He should have left loving Harry buried deep inside his heart and continued moving on. Even if it never truly felt like he would. 

He sips at his drink and stands there, trying to breathe in proper but it feels like there’s an elephant sitting on his chest, preventing even the smallest breath from filling his lungs. His eyes sting and he leans his head back, staring up at the last of the twinkling stars as they disappear and tells himself he won’t cry. Not once.

“You left me,” this voice says and Louis blinks hard. Of course he bloody came here. 

Probably thought he could slip into Louis’ bed again and slip out just as fast as he’d come.

“You looked busy. I was tired.”

He sounds as much of an asshole to his own ears as he must do Harry. Each word as snippy as the next. He feels more than sees Harry steps closer. Hears the sound of his boots on the pavers, scraping a bit because Harry’s always been lazy lifting his feet up proper. Fucks up one side of his soles which doesn’t help his pigeon toe walk and stance at all.

“I’m tired, too. I did just take a ten hour flight to get here in time.”

Louis sips at his drink, swirling the ice. “Thought you’d just kip here then, did you? Just jump right back into my life?”

Harry sighs and Louis imagines him scrubbing at his face, rubbing at his eyes. He doesn’t even need to look to know it’s what Harry does when he sighs like that. Annoyed and tired and resigned.

Louis still knows him so well.

“Well, yes. I thought that’s what you wanted? You should have told me if I wasn’t welcome, Louis. I would have booked a hotel.”

Louis laughs and it hurts but everything does. He was so stupid to think he was anything more than a friend to fuck and share a space with for a short time. He was an idiot to think that Harry would want more. Not now. Not after Louis turning him down again and again when they were younger. Not now after Louis welcomed him back but never pushed for anything more. He knows it’s his fault, too, but _fuck_ why did he have to take the first leap this time?

“Of course I wanted you here. I always want you,” he snaps back, ice sloshing in his drink as he indicates at Harry with his hand, not thinking about what he’s holding. “You looked too preoccupied to even have me as a consideration tonight. Life of the party, our Harold,”

“Don’t do that,” Harry says, and he sounds hurt and Louis should feel bad about what he’s saying but he can’t. He can’t care about Harry anymore when it’s obvious Harry doesn’t care as much in return.

They’re quiet for a moment, a breeze picking up enough to have Louis shivering, wrapping his arms around himself instead. It doesn’t help. He’s just as cold on the inside as out.

“Why are you even here, Harry? Why did you come here when you could have gone anywhere, been with anyone?” He finds himself asking and it’s the scotch that’s making him this brave. He can’t imagine another time that he’d ask this on his own.

He hears Harry step closer, can smell the scent of his aftershave and sweat from dancing all night as the breeze picks up again. There’s clouds gathering in the sky, blotting out the pretty light of dawn with greys and silvers that aren’t half as lovely as the sky before. 

“I wanted to see you. I wanted to see you and I’m sorry if me having fun with all those people put you in a shitty mood, but I knew I was coming back here. That I’d have time for you when I probably wouldn’t see any of them again for a while.”

That makes sense. Louis understands Harry wanting to catch up with everyone because it’s been years even for Louis since he’d caught up with Paul and his wife or Caroline and little Brooklyn who wasn’t so little anymore. 

“I’m here now Louis and I don’t want to fight. I want you and your bed, and I want to sleep somewhat in that order,” Harry says, sounding resigned and tired and Louis wants those things, too. 

Just not enough to push aside how he’s feeling right now. 

“Another quick fuck and fly out then is it?” he spits and he hates himself a little as he says it. Hates that Harry doesn’t even flinch as he does.

“No! I wasn’t expecting. . . I just wanted. . . Why are you being like this? I do have to fly out in the morning but I told you that. I told you I couldn’t stay long and you didn’t say not to come-“

“Why would I tell you not to come? It’s Zayn’s wedding. It has nothing to do with us!”

“I know that! I –“ Harry cuts himself off with a groan. “I don’t know what you want me to say! Yes I’m flying out tomorrow and yes, I thought maybe we’d kiss or shag or something because it’s a wedding and I thought we’d be drunk and get a bit handsy. But I didn’t _expect_ anything. I wanted to come for the wedding but I came to see you too and now I don’t know why I fucking bothered!”

“Neither do I!” Louis shouts in return, throwing his glass somewhere in the yard.

“Lou.” 

He knows Harry’s moved back. Harry’s always hated confrontation and Louis’ always relished in having the last word, even if it means he’s shouting things he doesn’t mean at all.

They’re silent and there’s a roll of thunder above, the sky darkening once more and it suits Louis’ mood. Would suit him down to a T if it started raining now. Anything to hide the angry tears that prickle behind his eyelids. Eyes shut so tight to prevent any emotion from escaping at all. 

“I can’t do this. I can’t do this with you, Harry. I thought I could. I thought what we were doing, have been doing was enough. I thought letting you in my life a little would be plenty but it’s not,” he starts and his voice trembles as he gets the words out. These truths so close to his heart.

"Do you know how hard it's been, it is, to fucking _love_ you?" he says so softly, he's not sure if Harry will hear. Not sure if he cares either way. "I've loved you for so long it's like I don't know any different. Even when I didn't want to. When I tried so hard _not_ to, it never really took. It just changed, became this different love that didn't seem to suffocate me like it had done." He breathes in and turns and Harry is still standing there. Still watching him and it takes _everything_ Louis has to raise his gaze, look Harry straight in the eye. He's come too far to stop now. Revealed too much. 

"I've loved you since before I knew what love was. Before I knew that anything that came before or after would be one tenth of what you mean to me. I will always love you. Even if I don't want to anymore. Even when it hurts."

Harry is still staring at him, mouth slightly open and Louis doesn't know what else to do. What else he can say. It’s all down to Harry now. Louis’ laid everything he has out on the table. 

"I, I don't know what you want me to say," Harry spreads his hands out in front of him. The suns rays are poking out from a cloud behind him and it has his stupid hair set fire with white golds and apricots and _fuck_ , Louis is never going to stop loving him. It's like breathing at this point. A given. 

Louis shakes his head and closes his eyes. 

"I don't want you to _say_ anything," he says, looking at Harry one last time. Taking every single part of him in because this will be it. There's no going back if Harry doesn't want to move forward. This has to be the end of this constant waiting and wanting _bullshit_ that's gone on for too long, whether Harry recognises it or not.

They're so quiet, _so quiet_ that Louis can hear everything around them in high definition detail. The water dripping on the garden tap, the birds that are setting up a nest in the tree closest to his bedroom window, the cogs turning in that giant clock he has inside that one of his sisters bought him a year ago. Harry's breath in, Harry's breath out. Louis' own heartbeat loud in his ears like a ticking bloody time bomb.

"I'll. . . I'm," Harry's turning as Louis looks up, he's shaking his head. "I don't - I don't know. I have to go," he steps forward again and again and then he's disappearing into the house, the sound slowly being swallowed up as he moves further away. Louis can hear the clack of Harry's stupid heeled boots on the floor before the front door is opened, the engine of a car starts and roars off and Louis has never, ever felt so utterly alone.

 

**+4 (2025)**

Harry doesn't show up at all the next year. 

Louis blocks his number on his phone. Goes a bit quiet with all the lads, really. His family too. Tells everyone he needs to sort stuff out and fucks off to one of the lesser islands of Fiji that he remembers from when he was stupid in love and hated himself for it when he was twenty-one. He still isn't happy that he can't let it go now, over twelve years on. 

He surfs and he eats amazing food and it tastes like dirt in his mouth. He watches storms roll in over crystal clear aqua seas and signs inside covers of travel books for a few women and men now and then.

Mostly he's alone. Which is what he wanted. 

Time to clear his head away from everyone and everything and it should help.

It should.

He flies back two months later because X Factor is starting up again and he loves his job and still being a part of that world. It's a bit easier this time around, new studio, Simon retiring the year before. More fresh faces than those that were still around from when he was "that young lad who caused all the trouble before with the other ones." 

He calls Zayn and asks about the kids, talks about meeting up but they don't. Niall drags him out with the old members of the LIC that are still around in London when he flies in from Australia. Liam has him around for Sunday roast with his wife and the little ones. He even runs into Sandy outside of bloody Starbucks and ends up having an hour chat about their lives without noticing. He's late for a meeting but, he's never really been all that good with time. 

He goes back to Doncaster a lot. Plays with his nephews and has to laugh when Felicity reveals she's expecting and it's another boy. That makes four now what with Lottie's two and and Daisy's Thomas turning three in the New Year. He always wanted a brother and now he's surrounded by little lads to impress and kick a ball about with whenever he travels home.

It gets easier.

It gets easier seeing Harry's name in the press or hearing it on the telly. It gets easier seeing his face on magazine covers when Louis' at Waitrose buying milk. It gets easier, as Louis compartmentalises his life once and for all. Before he spoke up. And after. They'll never be anything, and Louis will always love him but he can distance himself from it.

He can. He will.

When the band breakup anniversary comes around once more, he doesn't stay at home like he has done since it was over. He doesn't sit around the house and wait for Harry to arrive (because he won't). He doesn't _think_ all too much, really. He, Stan and Oli head out to see some band that Oli won't shut up about and they get absolutely wankered. So much so, Louis can't remember where he is when he wakes up at half one the next morning, or afternoon such as it is. 

When he does find his phone - it ends up being in Stan's baby girl’s old bassinet - there's no outgoing calls that he's made to worry about. No incoming either. Or texts. 

Well, none from anyone that Louis wasn't hoping for. Not in the slightest.

He heads out to the kitchen where Stan's missus is attempting to make them a late afternoon fry up while he cuddles up behind her, kissing her neck. Little Emma in her high chair bangs her spoon heartily on the plastic top, giving Louis her best gummy grin. 

"Y'alright, Tommo?" Stan asks, resting his cheek on Trisha's shoulder, tired yet happy eyes blinking soft in Louis' direction. 

Louis takes a deep breath in, letting it out slow as he settles on his chair beside Emma, her little hand grabbing out for his finger instead of her spoon as he reaches out to her. She's bloody strong and holds on tight, a little bubble of a laugh popping up as drool and possibly Weetabix roll down her chin. Everyone's moving on is the thing. Zayn and Perrie finally deciding they're better as friends than anything else, which is a bit late after their wedding the year before. Liam and his wife announcing baby three due in the New Year. Niall permanently moving to Australia, selling up his London home. Everyone has a something and Louis can't live in past possibilities anymore. 

"I think I might be."

 

**+5 (2026)**

There’s an idiot out on his back deck, lying about in nothing but the shortest of purple shorts and Raybans on.

It’s got to be about fifteen degrees in the shade today, and Harry’s out there sunning himself like it’s thirty. Louis stifles a laugh because he looks ridiculous with the wind blowing the rest of the yard about and Harry lying there near naked soaking up the weak Autumn rays. He says he's not sad he gave up on living in LA for Louis. He says that he doesn't miss the endless warmth and blue, blue skies. Not when he has Louis' eyes to look in. Not when he has Louis' arms about him at night. 

Harry's never quite grown out of his cheesiness.

Louis will never admit it's something about him that he loves.

Not when there's so many, many other parts that he loves more.

It’s good that Harry’s preoccupied because it means Louis can sneak in some snacks before Harry realises and whines about him “not being body conscious” or something. It usually ends in Harry looking at him with disappointment echoed in those big green eyes and Louis lying about getting up to do yoga with Harry the morning after. Even though, hey both know Louis won’t get up before the sun nowadays unless he has to. He heads to the pantry and pulls out the pack of crisps he’s got hidden behind Harry’s pack of psyllium husks and giant bag of freeze dried acai berries. Louis doesn’t mind eating those. Harry usually does them up so they taste like chocolate pudding and it doesn’t feel healthy at all eating a bowl of them with fresh cut strawberries and banana at breakfast. 

He’s just started stuffing a handful of crisps in his mouth when he hears Harry come in the glass doors. He stuffs another in quick, and wipes his hand down the front of his jeans hoping that it’ll get some of the cheese flavouring off before Harry notices.

Harry notices.

He comes swanning in, stops to raise his arms high above his head in some sort of stretch as he stands at one end of the kitchen. His eyes blink open slow when he shakes his shoulders out, taking in Louis who’s madly trying to roll the crisp pack back down. 

“Louis,” Harry says, sounding as disappointed as he looks. “We’ve got lunch planned in an hour, surely you could have found something better than those,” he tuts, walking toward Louis with his hand held out. 

Louis shrugs and hands them over. Sometimes its easier to placate Harry rather than argue about what goes in Louis’ mouth. He knows Harry means well but. . . a life of eating what he wants when he wants is a bit hard to alter. “Only had a few. Plus, they don’t really count what with them being puffed up reconstituted potato shavings or whatever it is that you approve of.”

Harry grins as he opens the pack and oh. Oh no. “Fat free and virtually non existent carbohydrates, Louis. They’re dead tasty I bet,” Harry throws a few in his mouth and Louis’ grin starts to falter a little in the corners.

The jig - as they say - is up.

“Louis,” Harry starts, still chewing but with a frown on his face. “These don’t taste like what they’re supposed to. These taste like. . . “ He pauses to swallow and Louis starts planning a route of escape. Surely he can make it to the stairs in time. Harry’s legs are longer, but he’s more prone to running into things so if Louis pulls out one of the bar stools as he goes, that should give him a few extra seconds. 

“Louis did you replace these with Walkers Chedder Cheese and Bacon?”

Louis doesn’t answer, he’s already stepping to the side, but he’s too late. Harry’s already there and he’s caging Louis in. 

“Give me them back then,” Louis harrumphs, reaching out to grab at the packet Harry’s got on the bench beside him. Harry tuts and holds it above his head, so Louis lifts himself back onto the bench to give himself a little extra height. Harry’s grinning and shaking the packet higher and Louis is contemplating standing on the marble top when Harry distracts him with a kiss that Louis gives into after a moments hesitation. Louis still isn’t used to this. The ease of which Harry kisses him now. The way he tells Louis without words (and with them more often than not) how much he loves him, has always done. 

He’s been living here with Louis for the past three months now, after it took them a good six months to sort themselves out once Harry got back in touch. Louis still can’t believe that they’re finally in the same place. That they went out and did a shop at Waitrose the day before and the world didn’t end. That a week ago they had dinner with Grimmy and his husband and the roof didn’t cave in on them. That a month before that, they went to V Fest and held hands and snogged at night and yeah, the paps took notice and so did some papers but it wasn’t all that bad. 

Somethings are worth putting up with when at the end of the day, he and Harry share a home and a life together now.

It’s a bit difficult kissing Harry when he’s smiling like he is, but he’s been smiling a lot more lately so he’s got practice. Louis crosses his ankles at the back of Harry’s legs, bringing him in close as he gives up on getting his crisps back. He wraps his arms around Harry’s neck while he wonders if they’ve still got lube in the drawer to his right after the _last_ time they “desecrated the kitchen” – in Harry’s words. He’s about to ask, when Harry’s phone’s going off and he’s not kissing Louis anymore which isn’t part of Louis’ plan at all. But, he is able to reach over and grab his crisp pack back off the bench where Harry dropped it with a triumphant smirk as Harry answers.

He gets that fond look that Louis’ has seen only when he’s talking to their family or to one of the lads. When he puts on that awful Irish accent, Louis knows who it is and settles back a bit, delightedly eating crisp after crisp as Harry frowns, chatting away to Niall. By the time he’s finished asking about Niall’s plans to find a ring while he’s in town and about Niamh, Louis’ nearly finished, tipping the crumbs into his mouth. Harry reaches around behind him, handing him a banana and mouthing “eat!” Louis isn’t as fond of the fruit as Harry’s always been but he doesn’t knock an opportunity to get in a good blowjob joke when one arises and he soon has Harry smiling again, as he mimes deep throating the thing. 

Harry and Niall discuss the possibility of doing a twitcam when all the lads arrive later. Harry and Louis hosting a get together to celebrate the end of the band and all the new beginnings that have happened since. Niall thinks they’ll crash the website, Louis wonders if anyone will even want to watch them faffing about at home. Harry just rolls his eyes and Louis finishes the banana in time to start reminding Harry that they only have a few hours left before Liam arrives – always the first – so if they want to do anything more than just snog in the kitchen he should probably get off the phone. He does this with his lips pressing kisses to the hinge of Harry’s jaw, sucking marks down Harry’s neck and nipping at his collarbone. 

Harry’s grip on Louis’ waist gets tighter and he mouths at Louis to stop when he finally gets a bit of space between them. A little on the difficult side with how Louis’ pretty much got himself wrapped around Harry like a bloody koala. “Wait!” he mouths again with a grin and Louis huffs but stills as Harry winds up his call. 

“Don’t bring anything, I’ve got lunch all planned out. Just come over whenever then.” He smiles at Louis and Louis’ whole body lights up from the feel of Harry’s brilliant green eyes on him alone. “We’ll be home.”

**\+ and + and + and + and**


End file.
